I ate a cookie after lunch the other day. It was delicious. Like, really good. And, just as I was enjoying that last bite, I heard the voice again.
“You’re kind of chunky,” he said to me. “You really shouldn’t have eaten that.”
Ed — the acronym and persona many eating disorder patients give their disease – was suddenly in my ears after all this time. I thought I’d heard the last of him.
“You’re weak for giving in,” he sneered. “You’ll never lose the baby weight now.”
I gave birth to our second baby five weeks ago, and Ed knows the idea of not losing the extra weight makes me panic. I won’t be physically fit again for some time. And while I realize I won’t fit into my old clothes anytime soon, that fact still bothers me.
Ed exploits these fears.
These days, caring for a toddler and a newborn and everything else that needs my attention, I find myself sleep-deprived, utterly exhausted and mentally fried. So, when I hit that midday slump, I want sugar for a boost of energy. The problem with that, of course, is that immediately after the sugar rush, I crash … then eat more sugar and promptly crash again. By the end of the day, I’m still tired and my stomach is upset.
I’ve learned to cut back my sugar intake during the day, but I still enjoy a little dessert at night. I find the less sugar I consume, the more energy I have and the better I feel.
Except for last Wednesday when I ate that chocolate chip cookie after lunch.
Me, thinking about having a cookie: “I’ve dealt with several temper tantrums, and the baby won’t sleep. I ate a healthy lunch. I deserve a cookie.”
Ed: “What happened to ‘I’ll only eat cookies after dinner’? Are you really going to give in that easily? You’re still a bit chubby, you know.”
Me, eating the cookie: “Yeah, I know I’m chubby. It takes a while to get back in shape. The cookie is delicious, and it’s right there.”
Ed, after I ate the cookie: “Haha yup, you aren’t going to fit back into your clothes now. You didn’t deserve a cookie. You’re fat.”
I spent the rest of the day beating myself up and feeling fat, just like I did all those years ago when my anorexia was nearly out of control. The guilt and the shame and the anxiety consumed me back then. I could feel it happening all over again. And it frightened me.
Right about now, you might be thinking, “So what? It was one cookie. Get over it.”
Here’s the thing: That one cookie represents a slippery slope for me. It shows me that no matter how much time has passed, those thoughts and anorexic behaviors are still lurking, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to break the surface and drag me back down to a place to which I hope I never return.
As a post-partum mother, I am already vulnerable to diet restriction, depression and poor body image. Relapsing into anorexia is, unfortunately, a very real possibility.
Ed’s little visit showed me how hard I can still be on myself. I tend to expect way too much. The house should be spotless. I should always be productive, look put together, do it all.
Perfection isn’t obtainable in any facet of life, but especially after a baby is born. Yes, my house is messier and dirtier then I would like. No, I haven’t had a chance to shower today, but dry shampoo and deodorant go a long way. The laundry is in a giant pile on the floor, but at least it’s clean.
My kids are happy and healthy. My husband loves me just the way I am. That’s what needs to matter to me right now.
And I have to remind myself … that’s what needs to matter always.
The cookie was one minute of joy for me, a momentary break during a chaotic day. There wasn’t anything wrong with me eating it. I know that. I will try to be kinder to myself going forward and remember life is to be enjoyed, and part of that enjoyment involves good food.
Because you know what? I bake killer chocolate chip cookies. Like, really good.
What a powerful account, Meagan. And so important for you to share it. Dad